Review Summary: Categorically monumental. An astonishing achievement, not only in the field of tech-death, but of musical composition and instrumental expertise overall.
The metal scene is in a constant whirlwind of one-upmanship. Technical death metal, in particular, seems almost catatonically afflicted with an ambitious, self-destructive drive to do
more. Archspire’s inhuman 400bpm blast beats, First Fragment’s commitment to multiple minutes-long solos, Ulcerate’s utter atmospheric oppressiveness – the excess isn't in search of an objective, it IS the objective. More, more,
more. More speed, more notes per second, more time changes, more tracks layered on top of each other. It’s a glorious cocktail of hubris, creativity, and raw, unbridled skill. Do I need to make it more obvious that it’s my favorite genre?
Now, this statement comes with a big qualifier: Tech-death is my favorite genre
when done right. Death metal is meant to be intense and visceral and an exercise in pushing the envelope, but bands like Obscura that polish up their output to such an obsessive degree are just so… exhausting to listen to. Ironically, because it feels like nothing much is actually happening.
Anyway, I’m rambling a touch. Enter the topic of this review: Spawn of Possession. When it comes to the founders of tech-death as a genre, the usual suspects all apply – Gorguts, Atheist, Death, Cynic, Necrophagist, etc – but the tech-death that we know and love today is very much of a darker and more aggressive type than what Chuck Schuldiner was playing in his last days. At the tail end of the ‘90s, the cauldron of brutal death metal was churning up some tasty goodies, giving us artists like Deeds of Flesh and Gorgasm blending fantastical technical ability and precision with the insane macabre flair of Cryptopsy and Suffocation. Spawn of Possession formed during this time, but didn’t manage to release any music until the turn of the millennium (maybe because releasing “Church of Deviance” before 2000 would have probably been the catalyst for Y2K) and, frankly, as good as
Cabinet is, it’s only a stepping stone. Spawn merely had to develop some muscles to climb out of the ooze, and after making the hop to land, their evolutionary advantages just kept coming.
Noctambulant came out a mere three years after
Cabinet, but it sounds entire decades ahead musically. The bizarre opening ambience of “Lamashtu” is replaced with a grandiose synthesized orchestra in “Inception,” and the triple-meter left-hook of “Swarm of the Formless”, impressive on a first listen of
Cabinet, seems pathetic compared to the flaying dished out during “Lash by Lash”. This album is so much better than its predecessor that comparing them almost seems pointless; it’s like trying to gas up a Koenigsegg’s build and design quality by putting it next to a hobbyist’s shed project car meant entirely for setting times at the drag strip.
The individual instrumental performances on this record leave no room for misinterpretation. Spawn of Possession knows their stuff, and they want you to know as well. Jonas Bryssling’s fretwork is downright enviable, crafting riffs that jump across the fretboard at dizzying speeds before overshooting the ends of the meter in quick, earwormy baroque flourishes. Melodic sections interplay seamlessly with flashes of dissonance and chromaticism, layered harmonies occasionally choosing minor thirds or other similarly-skewed intervals. The bass mirrors the guitar nearly note-for-note, but occasionally kicks into unique patterns underneath lead lines or over drum breaks. Dennis Röndum does double duty as both methed-up-octopus-tier drummer and ninth-circle-demon-tier vocalist; just listen to “Scorched,” with 320bpm snare strikes and rapid-fire growls to match. There’s not a single idle hand to be found in this devil’s workshop.
Next point of deliciousness is the
flawless production job. The recording is crisp and lifelike, and every sound is imaged across the stereo field like you’re listening from the back of an expertly-rigged concert hall. There’s a moment in the middle of “Eve of Contempt” where whispers echo in on alternating sides, and rather than sounding as if they’re merely getting louder, it feels like some insidious creature is
approaching right as Röndum delivers a furious growl alongside blistering blast beats. The synthesized orchestral bits only show up twice, and they’re remarkably restrained in the amount of time they take and the palette of sounds they use. As tenacious as they are in bending the bars of their cage and doing unexpected things with their songwriting, Spawn of Possession still tries to remember they’re a death metal band, and the overall sonic package here is taped up to be just that. And again, it’s five-star mixing and mastering, especially on the drums and guitar; the thin, overly-reverby sound that washed out some of
Cabinet’s higher-intensity moments is nowhere to be found here.
To me, it’s criminal that
Noctambulant isn’t mentioned alongside the other undisputed great tech-death albums. I wouldn’t dare say it’s as groundbreaking as, say,
Obscura or
Individual Thought Patterns, but the sheer quality of music on offer is high enough that it’s a blind recommend and a hallmark album for tech-death as a genre. Compositionally, instrumentally, and sonically, it was ahead of everything else when it released and it still punches comfortably alongside even the fastest and shreddiest tech-death of today. It’s atmospheric, unpredictable, and avant-garde just as it is brutal, heavy, and disgustingly technical.
What’s most shocking about
Noctambulant is its reluctance to show any form of shortcoming whatsoever. It’s not an overly long or demanding listen the way something like
Gloire Eternelle is (to this end, I personally wish it was even longer) but the individual riffs and sections of songs all have sufficient time to breathe and be appreciated. It’s also… surprisingly accessible? Don’t get me wrong, it’s fast, impenetrable tech-death, but it’s catchy, sticks to one tempo per song, and makes a conscious effort to bring riffs back to center at least once. This accessibility doesn’t come at any sort of compromise of attention to detail or overall complexity, however. Even after dozens of spins, it’s still exciting and jarring in its innumerable twists and turns. Relistening is rewarding in that unique way where a new detail becomes apparent that you just
need to rewind over and enjoy every single time you hit replay. The cavernous complexity all comes with a divine sense of purpose and intent.
Maybe the real shortcoming is that Spawn of Possession unfortunately peaked with this album.
Incurso was good, even excellent in its own right, but setting such a high baseline makes any following effort seem phoned in by comparison. And, sadly, we’ll never know if they could have done better. I’m not of the hope that they could have somehow beaten
Noctambulant had they stayed together, but seeing them in the graveyard next to Death and Necrophagist is still slightly demoralizing.
But, hey.
Noctambulant is still around. As long as we’ve got it, we still have Spawn in our hearts.
